Rumours of My Death
by picascribit
Summary: The rumours of Remus's death have been greatly exaggerated, much to Sirius's relief. RLxSB, First War. Warning: explicit sex and discussion of death.


Remus frowned at his reflection and dabbed at the cut on his cheek with a cotton bud.

_Not too bad, all things considered,_ he thought. _Another inch to the left, and full moons would have been the least of my worries._

The front door opened with a crash, startling him, and two agitated voices broke into the sitting room. Sirius and James, in the middle of the afternoon. They should have been at work. Curious, Remus stepped out of the bathroom to see what all the fuss was about.

His friends looked disheveled and shaken. When they caught sight of him, though, their eyes went wide. Sirius gave an unintelligible exclamation, and James turned to him, grinning and punching him in the shoulder.

"See?" he said. "Told you we should've checked here first."

Sirius only shook his head, and half fell into Remus, clutching at him. Remus's arms went around him automatically. To his bemusement, Sirius was trembling.

"I am going to fucking kill that pox-ridden cunt," he said precisely, voice muffled in the fabric of Remus's shirt.

Remus looked to James for enlightenment.

"Dawlish," James explained. "There was a report of an attack on some members of the Order. He said you'd been killed."

"Oh," said Remus. "Well, there was an attack. Everyone's all right, though."

"Glad to hear it," said James, relieved. "In that case, we should probably be getting back to the office."

Sirius didn't move.

Remus cleared his throat. "I think perhaps you'd best -"

"I'll make your excuses, Padfoot." James rolled his eyes.

"Thanks," replied the muffled voice.

James turned to the door, then paused and turned back. "I'm glad you're not dead, Moony."

Remus gave his friend a half-smile. "Me, too."

Once James had gone, Remus turned his full attention to his trembling, clinging lover.

"Are you okay, Padfoot?"

"You were dead, Moony," Sirius mumbled miserably to Remus's shirt. "You were dead and I was never going to see you or touch you or kiss you ever again."

"'The rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated,'" Remus quoted, still smiling. Sirius's panic at his imagined demise was oddly touching.

Sirius disengaged himself from Remus's shirt far enough to look up into his eyes. He had never seen him look so frantic. "It's not funny, Moony."

Remus cupped Sirius's face in his hands, holding the other man's gaze. "I'm all right, Padfoot," he reassured him, before kissing him tenderly.

With a desperate sob, Sirius sagged into him, biting at his lips, urging them apart with his tongue, as if longing to taste, to consume, what he had thought lost. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of Remus's shirt. Catching his agitation, Remus responded in kind, flicking open the fastening of Sirius's robes and shoving them back off his shoulders.

"Need you," Sirius gasped against his mouth. "Please -"

"Bedroom. Now," Remus mumbled.

They staggered into the next room, barely letting go of one another long enough to shed their clothing, and fell onto the bed. Sirius pulled Remus down on top of him.

"_Hurry,_" he hissed as Remus fumbled for the bottle on the nightstand, urging him to stop wasting time and just _do_ it already, for God's sake!

Then he was sheathed in the tight, welcoming heat of Sirius's body, and Sirius was making sobbing, whimpering sounds and clawing at his back, demanding hard use at the hands of his lover. In answer, Remus showed him with his hips and hands and teeth just how alive they both were. But it was only when Sirius felt Remus come deep inside him that his own release and relief found him, flooding his body with the joyous knowledge that in such moments, they lived forever.

They lay quiet for some time after, arms around one another, Sirius's cheek pressed to Remus's chest, listening to the slow, strong beat of his heart, to the breath flowing deep and regular through his lungs.

"Moony?" he said softly.

"Hmmm?"

"Promise me you'll never die?"

Remus gave a sigh that was still mostly contentment, and raised a hand to stroke Sirius's silken hair. "You know I can't promise that anymore than you can, Love."

"I think I'd die without you, Moony." Sirius's voice quavered slightly.

"No, you wouldn't, Padfoot," Remus assured him gently. "You're stronger than that."

Sirius turned his head so that his chin rested on Remus's chest. "What, then?" he demanded heatedly. "What'll I do when you're gone?" His hand moved to rest on the wedge of scar tissue at the top of Remus's right thigh. The wolf's bite.

They had both read every book on Lycanthropy they could get their hands on, and the facts were well known to both of them, but it was the first time either of them had acknowledged the "when" rather than the "if" aloud. The life expectancy of a werewolf - especially one bitten in childhood - was significantly less than the normal life span of a wizard. The human body simply wasn't meant to take that kind of strain. Ever since he had learned the facts, Remus had secretly hoped that he would one day die in battle, or in some other quick, painless way. The death that was the usual lot of a werewolf wasn't a pretty or easy one. Some of the books had had pictures.

But the mutual awareness that their time together was limited made it that much more precious.

Remus stroked Sirius's cheek and smiled fondly into his eyes. "You'll wank a lot," he said. "You'll get into all kinds of trouble without me there to tell you when you're being foolish and pigheaded. You'll play the degenerate uncle to Prongs's children and Wormtail's, and probably their grandchildren as well. And one day, when you're wrinkled and toothless and very, very old, you'll come to the place where I'll be waiting for you. Always."

"Maybe so," Sirius allowed, smiling a little tremulously. "I love you, Moony. Promise me you'll try not to die for a very, very long time?"

"I promise, Padfoot."


End file.
